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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Divine Office Holy Saturday Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Liturgy Scripture Triduum

In the empty spaces.

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The 46th word in my Lent lexicon is:

EMPTINESS.

After the high drama of Good Friday People often talk of holy Saturday as a “tomb day”, a time to sit with the emptiness that follows death, to allow the events of Good Friday to sink in. I recognise the yearning for that and its wisdom yet, it’s not an experience I recognise from monastic life.

In practice for many of us Holy Saturday is very much a hybrid day, we are aware of its emptiness, the mourning and the uncertainty. We also have to acknowledge that the Easter vigil is fast approaching and that Easter liturgies and treats do not plan themselves. So it is also a day of preparation and anticipation that can be very busy.

As we move through this hybrid day I’m reflecting on these words from the lamentations of the prophet Jeremiah from this morning’s Office of Readings:

“The favours of the Lord are not all past, nor his kindnesses exhausted; every morning they are renewed: great is his faithfulness. My portion is with the Lord says my soul, and so I will hope in him.”

Even in the midst of his lamentation Jeremiah is able to acknowledge the kindness and faithfulness of God, and to put his hope in that. His words speak to me of the hybrid reality of the day.

It seems to me that the emptiness of Holy Saturday calls us to imitate God’s kindness to others as we get on with the many preparations for Easter, and to ourselves as we seek small moments of quiet during the day.

In the emptiness of Holy Saturday where are you aware of the Lord renewing your capacity for kindness?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Divine Office Good Friday Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Liturgy Scripture Triduum

Hope in a dark place

The 45th word in my Lent lexicon is:

DEATH.

Image ©Turvey Abbey

In many ways it sums up the essence of Good Friday, the day compels us to look death in the face with all the pain and suffering that brings. At Office of Readings on Good Friday we sing the Lamentations of the Jeremiah. This morning I was struck by their opening lines:

“All of you who pass this way, look and see, is any sorrow like the sorrow that afflicts me?”

It perfectly sums up Good Friday, especially in such hard and uncertain times when we all carry so much suffering and when our society often seems determined to choose death over life. In such times the cross is the only place that can hold our suffering and our fear of death.

Yet, in Lauds I found the Lamentations were given a new and broader perspective by these verses from the Byzantine liturgy:

“How can you die, Christ our Life?
How can you lie in the tomb?
By your death you will destroy the power of death,
And you will raise the dead from their tombs.”


They echo the heart breaking sorrow of Jeremiah, giving us a place to acknowledge our own heartbreak and suffering. Yet, they also carry us beyond that. They point out that our faith doesn’t stop at the cross. The cruel death of the Cross is a staging post on our journey to new life in the resurrection.

They remind us that the Christ who lay in the tomb is already risen. He is with us in the sufferings and uncertainties of our times and will lead us through that to the new life that his resurrection promises.

As we face death before the cross this Good Friday where are you inspired by the hope of the new life Christ promises?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Gospel Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Scripture

Facing betrayal.

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The 43rd word in my Lent lexicon is:

BETRAYAL.

Even writing it I’m aware that it’s a harsh and unforgiving word. Yet, reading today’s gospel it’s hard to find any other word to describe what goes on. Judas, for whatever reason, has come to the conclusion that he will betray Jesus to the authorities. Once again, Jesus shows that he is fully aware of what is going on and of where it will lead:

“He said ‘I tell you solemnly, one of you is about to betray me.’”

It’s easy to identify with Jesus in this passage. We all know how it feels to be betrayed, we know the hurt, disappointment and heartbreak that it brings. We know it shatters lives and relationships.

It’s easy to identify with the disciples, indignant at the suggestion that this could be any of them as they chorus their:

“Not I, Lord, surely?”

Any of us have ever been mistakenly accused of anything can understand the indignation and heart that they must have felt.

It is much harder to identify with Judas, the betrayer. It’s so tempting to put him on the outside, to make him a scapegoat for all our own faults. It’s easy to tell ourselves that we would never have acted as he did. But if we are honest we have to acknowledge that in the course of our lives we too betray both Christ and ourselves.

So this hard gospel, and this hard word holds a mirror up to us. It asks us both to acknowledge the times we have been betrayed, and the times we have been the betrayer.

What mirror is Christ challenging you to look into this Holy Week?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Gospel Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Scripture

Glory revealed.

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The 42nd word in my Lent lexicon is:

GLORY.

Glory is not necessarily the first word that would come to mind when we think in the darkness, fear and betrayal that mark Holy Week. In today’s gospel, as Jesus celebrates the Last Supper with his disciples, Judas prepares to betray him. Jesus is fully aware of this, and indeed tells him to get on with it.

It seems that already Jesus has a clear idea of where all this is heading, even if his disciples are still in the dark. We certainly are all too familiar with where this all leads, and there is very little in it that speaks to us of any human understanding of what glory might mean:

“Now has the Son of Man been glorified, and in him God has been glorified. If God has been glorified in him, God will in turn glorify him in himself, and will glorify him very soon.”

He calls us to look again at “GLORY”, and at what true glory might actually mean. It couldn’t be clearer that it doesn’t mean anything we might recognise. It’s not connected to fame, wealth, recognition or celebrity or anything else our culture might recognise as glory.

The glory he speaks of can only come from one source, a wholehearted commitment to doing the will of the Father. As we move through Holy Week It becomes more and more obvious that Jesus has made that commitment. We know what that looks like for him. In calling us to follow him he invites us to us to discover what that would look like in our own lives and to make the same commitment.

Where are you being called to glorify God in your life this Holy Week?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Gospel Lectio Divina Lent Scripture

Letting go of grumbling.

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The 35 word in my Lent lexicon is: GRUMBLING. Throughout the Rule St Benedict warns the community of the dangers of grumbling. It’s not to be tolerated in any circumstances. He even tells us that obeying with grumbling is no better than disobeying.

At first glance this can seem a bit excessive, but a few moments honest reflection helps us to see his point. We can all see how undermining grumbling can be in our lives and our relationships

On their journey through the desert the Israelites did their fair share of grumbling. They grumbled because they had no food, and God provided food, they grumbled because they had no water and God provided water. Then they grumbled because they didn’t like the food they were given.

Their grumbling had devastating circumstances for their communities, until they recognised the error of their ways and turned back to God, admitting their sin and their need. This created a space where God could offer them healing:

“Make a fiery serpent and put it on a standard. If anyone is bitten and looks at it, he shall live.’ So Moses fashioned a bronze serpent which he put on a standard, and if anyone was bitten by a serpent, they looked at the bronze serpent and lived.”

Their experience reminds us that we too can turn back to God, asking God to replace our grumbling with gratitude. In the healing light of God’s love, we can discover a new way of looking at things that leads us to appreciate what we have instead of grumbling about what we don’t have. In a world that tends to feed dissatisfaction learning be satisfied can be a real challenge, and can bring us to a new and life giving freedom.

Where are you been called to put aside grumbling this Lent?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Gospel John the Baptist Lectio Divina Lent Scripture

Led by the light

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The 30 word in my Lent lexicon is:

LIGHT.

It’s not a word I generally connect with Lent, more often I connect it with Advent or Eastertide. But today this jumped out at me from the gospel:

“John was a lamp alight and shining and for a time you were content to enjoy the light that he gave. But my testimony is greater than John’s: the works my Father has given me to carry out, these same works of mine testify that the Father has sent me.”

Jesus’ words recall John’s testimony and the light he offered us. It was a good light, necessary and valuable. In our dark times it’s worth remembering that light that shone in our darkness, refusing to be overcome and showing us a way through.

Then Jesus takes us a step further, John’s light was good, he tells us, but I’m offering something more. He calls us to use the light to follow him into new and uncharted territory. The light of Jesus’ testimony will take us beyond what we already know. As we draw closer to Holy Week we have to acknowledge that. Living in our own hard times we are all too aware of the darkness we face and the need for that light.

Through his union with the Father the light Jesus offers us will guide us through all that darkness and lead us towards the new light and life of resurrection. The whole purpose of our Lent journey is to prepare our hearts to welcome that light wholeheartedly. Surely then part of our Lent practice is to seek that light in our lives and to trust us to lead us through Lent and whatever darkness we encounter there.

Where is Christ inviting you to allow his light into your life this Lent?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Discernment Gospel Lectio Divina Lent Scripture

Be reconciled

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The tenth word in my Lent lexicon is:

RECONCILIATION.

The call to reconciliation is essential. We can’t go through life without causing each other distress and pain. That means we have to find ways of forgiving one another, of becoming reconciled and rebuilding damaged relationships. This is true on every level of human life from personal relationships to international relations.

Reconciliation is not easy. When we have been hurt or wronged it’s really hard to see beyond that to be able to forgive and to rebuild damaged relationships. The temptation is to stay with our hurt and our pain rather than taking the risk of moving beyond it into a situation where we have to be open, trusting and vulnerable.

In today’s gospel Jesus makes it clear that, however hard it might be, the call to reconciliation is not an optional extra, it’s central to the call of the gospel and to building the kingdom. He says to his followers:

“If you are bringing your offering to the altar and there remember that someone has something against you, leave your offering there before the altar, go and be reconciled with them first, and then come back and present your offering.”

He makes it clear that, however hard it might be we need to find ways of being reconciled with one another if we are to live well and flourish. This echoes our own experience; we know how destructive an unforgiving attitude can be both to relationships and to our inner life.

Reconciliation requires that we move beyond our own perspectives, allowing that there might be a bigger picture than we can see. It calls us to allow that someone else’s perspective might be as valid as our own. It asks asks to admit that being right might not be the most important thing.

Where is Christ calling you to seek reconciliation this Lent?

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Ash Wednesday Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Divine Office Gospel Lectio Divina Lent Liturgy Scripture Uncategorized

Ash Wednesday

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One of the most helpful books I’ve read is “Amazing Grace, a vocabulary of faith.” By Kathleen Norris. She describes it as “an exploration and record of some of the words in the Christian lexicon that most trouble and attract me.”

The book reminded me of an important Benedictine principle, that words matter. They shape us, form us, challenge us and help us grow.

So this Lent I’ve decided to make myself a Lent lexicon. I’m going to explore some of the words we commonly hear in Lent. I’ve chosen words that attract and sometimes scare me. They also both shape and challenge my experience of Lent.

Ashes

Ashes mark the beginning of our Lent journey. With a small, but significant physical sign we give a powerful message about the significance of this time. The Ashes seem to me to be a signal of intent for the season of Lent. There are many ways that intention could be stated, it will vary from person to person and from year to year. But whatever variations it has I generally find that this verse expresses them all:

“O that today you would listen to his voice, harden not your hearts.”

It’s the first thing we sing on Ash Wednesday, and whatever Lent practices I choose this verse sums up their purpose and intent. Lent practices help us to move away from the clutter that disguises our hardheartedness. They invite us to allow our hearts to become vulnerable and open to receive the Word of God.

Ashes remind us of that intention and of our limitations. As we receive the ashes we hear one of these verses:

“Turn away from sin and be faithful to the gospel.”

Or

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you will return.”

Our Lent journey starts with high hopes. These verses bring us back down to earth. We are created from the stuff of the earth, that is both a humbling and liberating thought. In a world that sets impossibly high standards it allows us the freedom to accept our limitations.

As we journey through Lent our good intentions will get battered and even fall by the wayside. The ashes are a reminder that this is simply part of being human. We can fall, and get up and try again.

How are you being called to open your heart to God’s voice this Ash Wednesday?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Discernment Gospel Lectio Divina Scripture Uncategorized

Putting on the mind of Christ.

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There’s an undeniable tension between human thinking and God’s thinking. It comes up again and again in Scripture. From Isaiah to St Paul we hear a version of God’s word to Isaiah:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts and your ways are not my ways…”

In today’s gospel we see this principle played out in practice between Jesus and Peter. Peter is horrified by Jesus’ teaching that the Son of Man was destined to be rejected, suffer, die and rise again. He takes Jesus aside and remonstrates with him.

We don’t really know what Peter’s motivation was. He may have been shocked that the image of the Messiah Jesus presented wasn’t the one he’d been expecting. He might have been scared about where this path might lead himself and the other disciples. He may have been worried about the reaction of the disciples to such a stark message.

We do know that Jesus’ response is a rebuke and a challenge:

“He rebuked Peter and said to him, ‘Get behind me, Satan! Because the way you think is not God’s way but the human way.’”

Jesus’ words challenge us as much as they do Peter. They remind us that, in following him we are to strive to align our hearts and minds with God’s way of thinking. It’s a call to be kind and compassionate, to give people the benefit of the doubt and not to judge. In these unsettling times that’s more important than ever.

What does it mean for you to “put on the mind of Christ” in your life today?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Christmastide Cross Gospel Holy Innocents Lectio Divina Liturgy Scripture

Making space for grief.

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The feast of the Holy Innocents is the most challenging of the Christmas Octave Its stark brutality and unbearable violence shocks us. We prefer to airbrush it, or ignore it because it sits so uncomfortably both with our image of the nativity and with their view of ourselves.

It would be so much more convenient and comfortable to place it firmly in the past, something that we would never allow to happen now. The briefest of glances at the news shows us how wrong that view is. Part of the discomfort is that there are plenty examples today of similar indiscriminate brutality and violence against innocent people. In that sense the feast acts as a mirror, compelling us to look at our own times rather than judging Herod’s.

Another important aspect of the feast is that it allows us an opportunity to allow our own sadness a place in our celebrations. Modern Christmas has become relentlessly cheerful. We are expected to be joyful, happy and positive. Yet many of us come to Christmas carrying much sadness and grief. Our Christmas celebration has to find a space for that grief as well as the joy. Today’s gospel offers that opportunity as, quoting Jeremiah, Matthew tells us:

“A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loudly lamenting:
it was Rachel weeping for her children, refusing to be comforted because they were no more.”


As we listen to Rachel mourning inconsolably for her lost children we can find the space to mourn. We can join our grief to hers, personal and communal, making space for all who are carrying the weight of grief this Christmastide.

Where do you need space for grieving this Christmastide?